Tuesday, April 26, 2005

"NEVER BET WITH A GAMBLER".....

The title says it all. I stopped by the bar during the lunchtime hour to check on something related to Con-Edison. The usual suspects were there celebrating the Death Pool victory of Daddy Rich, when the conversation turned to the NBA playoffs. I asked the Master Thespian (our Monday bartender) when the New Jersey Nets were scheduled to play; he said Tuesday. I said "are you sure about that?" and he insisted that it was on Tuesday. Now I SWEAR I thought I heard the lovely Jenna Wolfe, the Channel 7 weekend sportscaster say that the Nets were scheduled to play again on Wednedsay. So I told the Master Thespian that I thought he was wrong. He insisted that he was right and challenged me to a $5 bet. Now me trusting the word of the lovely Jenna Wolfe over the Thespian, I took him up on the bet. Looking back in retrospect, I should've known something was up because he wanted to make this bet too eagerly.

In any case, as I was about to take him up on this bet, he changed the particulars....from $5, to smacking the ass of a particular patron that we all know and love....MADAME X. Now, once again looking back in retrospect, if that wasn't a dead giveaway that he was right, then I don't know what else he could have done stop short of hitting me over the head with a baseball bat. Stupid me took the bet.....and LOST!

Now the lunchtime regulars were besides themselves with glee at the thought of yours truly not only losing the bet, but at the prospect of me having any type of physical contact w/the Madame, especially in light of my traumatic experience the last time we touched. But, as most people know, I am a man of my word and honor.

At around six-thirty p.m. the hour of reckoning came. I was downstairs, preparing for the shift change. I came upstairs, only to be met by a bartender with a shit-eating grin. I turned towards the bar and there she was: THE MADAME. I could feel an eerie queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach as I finished the shift change procedures. I looked at the Thespian and said "here goes"....and approached our favorite patron. She was sitting at the bar, beer in hand, cheezy grin on her face. I walked up to her, wound up and gave her three quick slaps on her derriere and said what's up. She turned to me without a flinch and said "hello" in that beguiling voice. I could detect a faint strange odor- a lot like dried urine....and as she began a long-winded conversation about how I was doing, I could feel the boiling acidic taste of puke trying to make its way up from my stomach.... I cut the conversation short and excused myself and ran outside for some much needed air. I looked inside the bar and saw the Thespian laughing uncontrollably and knew that my job was done.

And that's all I'll say about that. Now excuse me while I make an appointment with my therapist.

NUFF SAID